The Woman Inside (8 page)

She opened her mouth to argue, then closed it. He was right, though she would
prefer he slept somewhere else while he did it. No matter. It was probably a
good idea to take him along anyway. “All right, but be quiet about it. The men
need their rest.”

A huge yawn nearly cracked his head open as he nodded and pulled on his
boots. “Where are we going?”

“Out. I need some things, and I’d like to stretch my legs.”

The town was well awake as they stepped into the street, and Ceylon suffered
a pang of nostalgia for her own home as she walked by the baker’s and
chandler’s. Still, the morning was brisk and she was grateful to find a display
of the very thing she needed just a few buildings down.

“Wait here,” she told Raven, who didn’t seem inclined to enter the milliner’s
shop anyway. Once inside the tiny store that adjoined the dressmaker’s, she
immediately went to the front window and took the silver hair sticks there. She
handed the long, crystal topped sticks to the shop girl. “I’ll take these,
please.”

The girl smiled. “Madam is decisive. Is there anything else you would like
today?”

“A locket. Something inexpensive, if you have it.”

“Like this?” The girl opened an unseen drawer and removed a simple silver
locket on pretty ribbon.

“Just like that.” Ceylon smiled and handed her the money.

She opened the door and stepped outside just in time to hear, “Who let the
dogs out?” Instantly she was transported back to her childhood.

“Who let the dogs out?” Eville called as she walked by. The other boys
snickered.

Ceylon quickened her step and pretended she hadn’t heard as they followed
her.

“Hey, dung face! I’m talking to you!”

“Woof, woof!”

The sound of boyish laughter, different but no less cruel, returned her to
the present. She saw a girl, her head down and steps quick, scurry past. Worse,
she realized that Raven was laughing with the others.

“Raven!” she snapped.

He whipped around, surprised to see her. “Mistress Ceylon! I--”

Her cold words were for him, but she directed her gaze to the overgrown bully
boys haunting the saddle maker’s next door. “Only a child with a small heart
mocks those weaker than himself.”

The laughter stopped as the boys directed uncertain looks at their leader, a
large youth with an evil pinch between his eyes.

“Who are you, his mother?” The youth spat on the ground. His followers nudged
each other as they followed the exchange.

Her carriage at its most regal, for she refused to cowed by this insolent
boy, she told him with chill calm, “He doesn’t need one, for he’ll grow to be
more of a man than you will ever be.”

The lad stood rooted to the ground, an incredulous expression on his face as
she turned on her heel and walked away.

“Mistress--” Raven began as he hurried after her.

She didn’t want to hear it, was far too upset to listen to his excuses.
Without looking at him, she said, “Her face will clear, she’ll learn to tame
that hair and curves will replace her lack. She’ll grow up to be a beauty, and
all she’ll remember of you is a rude lad who hurt her feelings.”

Raven seemed to be struggling for words, but he didn’t think of what to say
before they’d entered the inn and reached her room. No longer caring how much
noise she made, Ceylon slammed her door and tossed her purchases on the bed. The
pulse in her temples throbbing, she retrieved her herb kit and unrolled it while
the fury in her mind kept her too animated to think.

Once it was open, she selected a very special vial and carefully uncapped it,
mixing it with a little liquid from another vial, just enough to make a dough.
This she quickly rolled into a ball, pinching it to flatten it. When it was done
she placed it in the locket and quickly washed her hands, tossing the water out
the window. With hands that hardly trembled, she lifted the locket and fastened
the ribbon around her neck. The metal nestled chill between her breasts.

No matter what happened, she would never suffer another thing at Eville’s
hands.

“What is this?” Uric held up a tiny blue vial to the light. Ceylon had given
one to each of them.

Ceylon pushed her dinner plate away and took a large swallow of wine. She had
her hair up tonight, and her crystal tipped hair sticks winked at him. There was
nothing flirtatious in her manner, however, as she told him, “I have a
substance, that when swallowed, will make a body seem as if it is dead. If the
antidote is not given in time, the subject will, in fact, die. That is the
antidote.”

His eyes narrowed. “Why would you give this to us?”

She exhaled heavily. “Accidents happen. In the remote chance that I should be
captured by Eville, I would rather he thought I was dead and leave my body by
the road than ... the alternative.”

His jaw locked. “You don’t have much faith in me, do you?”

“If that were true I wouldn’t have given you the antidote.” She held his
gaze. “Women are wary creatures, my lord. We like to make ourselves as safe as
humanly possible, so we surround ourselves with people we trust and take
precautions. It is no more than that, and it ... eases my mind.”

My lord, was it? Apparently she was trying make herself safe from more than
Eville. He slipped the vial in his pocket and flicked a glance at Roland.

Roland stood and stretched. “Come, Crow. I’ve a mind to practice swordplay
tonight and you strike me as an excellent target.”

Raven gave him a suspicious look, but rose just the same. “I’m not that easy
a mark.”

Roland snorted. “We’ll see.”

Raven hesitated before leaving. “I found these. Thought you could use them.”
He dug something out of his pocket, placed it on the table before Ceylon could
say anything and then vanished.

Ceylon picked up one of the carved disks rocking on the table. “Buttons. He
carved me buttons.”

Uric studied the intricate carvings. “I’d noticed he seemed to be out of
favor tonight. So did Roland. I suspect the boy will be sore tonight. Roland
likes you.”

She looked stricken.

He chuckled. “Perhaps I should have said ‘respects’? Although I have to
wonder why the idea alarms you. Most woman would be flattered to receive the
attention of a warrior like Roland.”

She toyed with the buttons. “He is sweet--”

“Sweet!”

A feminine glare speared him. “But he’d have no real interest in me.” The
words ‘a woman like me’ remained unsaid.

He heard them just the same, and understood what blocked his own way. “Why?
Do you have a lover we don’t know about?”

“No!”

“Ah.” He nodded knowingly. “You’re secretly pledged to a nunnery?”

She folded her arms.

Enjoying himself, he said softly, “You’ve tasted the pleasures of lovemaking
and found them not to your taste?”

Hot embarrassment painted her cheeks. “You know I ... I d-don’t....”

He winked. “Sorry. An unfair tease. Still, you haven’t answered me.” Careful
not to threaten her, he took her hand and slowly raised it to his lips, giving
her the lightest of butterfly kisses. “Don’t you want to experience the joys of
marriage? Of children?” he murmured.

Transfixed by his gaze, she stammered, “I ... it’s impossible.” She blinked
as if fighting against a spell. “I would have to be in love. To trust him. And
how can I? All men leave in the end.”

A slight frown puckered his brow, as he tilted his head. “Who left?”

“My father. Her lovers....” She shook her head as if coming out of a trance
and pulled away. “It doesn’t matter. Who would want me?”

Uric had never liked games, and he sensed that toying with Ceylon would get
him no where. Hands folded in a businesslike manner on the table, he leaned
forward. “I’ve seen many beautiful woman, Ceylon. I know you’ve heard of my
past, of the women I’ve brought home as potential brides. The ones that ran.
What you might not know is that none of them were beautiful. Not even remotely.”
A muscle flexed in his jaw. “I chose them for their sweet tempers, thinking to
counteract my mother’s poison. It didn’t work.”

She didn’t say a word.

“My point,” he continued doggedly, “Is that looks don’t sway me. I had my
choice of pretty brides and didn’t take them, because when I looked inside I saw
nothing of value.” He paused to underscore his words. “That’s not what I see
when I look inside you.”

She looked at her hands, still resting on the table.

He covered her hand with his. “You’re a beautiful woman, Ceylon. You could
make a wonderful bride.”

“You hardly know me.” Her voice sounded strained.

“I know you as well as I knew the others, and I like far better what I
see.”

Yes, but a man who had already offered for five women ... how fickle was
that? She pulled back, took a deep breath. “Perhaps I’m not convinced of your
sincerity.”

“You want to be convinced? Find me a priest right now.” He’d had enough of
testing women against his mother. Far better to lock them into wedlock
first.

Tension built in Ceylon’s features. “So you can swear your undying love?”

That made him blink. Had he promised love?

“I didn’t think so,” she said heavily. She stood. “Good night, my lord.”

“Ceylon--”

“Good night.”

* * * *

“What did you do to make her mad?”

Uric took his eyes from the black river. The chunks of ice were small yet,
but soon it would freeze, making travel this way impossible. Cold steam rose
from the waters, fogging the gray winter’s light.

School was in session in the middle of the boat, for Ceylon had set out
writing materials on a crate and was seated on a smaller one, teaching Raven to
write.

She never glanced Uric’s way.

Feigning indifference, Uric ignored her in kind and said in the same discreet
tone, “Why?”

Arms crossed, Roland stared him down with his one good eye, his hair stirred
by the wind of their passage. “Give.”

There was no point ignoring him. Without visible distress, Uric said simply,
“I asked her to be my bride. She refused.”

Roland’s eye widened. “She refused? But why?”

Annoyed all over again, Uric scanned the opposite bank, seeking distraction.
“She claimed some need of love.”

“And you told her you didn’t have any?” Roland demanded incredulously and
bopped him on the head like an erring boy.

Uric’s hand automatically gripped his sword hilt, a reflexive move, for he
didn’t draw it. It was the first time since his youth that anyone had dared to
make so light with him.

But Roland hadn’t finished. “Are you daft man? That title gone to your head?
You don’t propose marriage and then tell the woman you have no feelings for her!
How did you ever find a bride before this?”

Uric’s shoulders hunched. “The subject never came up.” Even he could hear the
petulance in his voice.

Eye rolling, Roland shook his head. “I’ll be traveling on this bride quest
with you until I’m an old man, won’t I?” Before Uric could say a word, Roland
gripped his shoulder and turned him to look at Ceylon. “That’s as fine a woman
as you’ll ever find and you know it. Saints know we’ve traveled the land and
seen plenty of the wrong kind of woman. Swallow your pride and make her yours,
man. Whatever you have to do will be small price to pay.” He squeezed Uric’s
shoulder for emphasis and then left him alone to think.

Whether he liked to admit it or not, Uric knew his friend was right. Maybe
the title had gone to his head, for he knew he’d botched it with Ceylon. Still,
who knew she’d react so strongly? None of his other brides had ever had the
least consideration for his feelings for them. They’d wanted his title. It was a
small shock to discover that it meant nothing to Ceylon.

Which only proved that she was the right one for him. But how to win her?
Judging by her chilly behavior, regaining her favor would be no easy thing. What
did women want when they were in a snit?

Raven’s buttons came to mind, and he smiled. Of course! Gifts. If she felt so
strongly about wooden buttons, how much more would she like the courting gifts
he’d brought for the lady Anne?

Winning her favor would be a snap.

* * * *

“A fan?” Ceylon stared at him as if he were slightly mad. “It’s freezing out
here, Ur—my lord.”

He frowned. All right, so a fan hadn’t been the greatest choice, but he’d had
surprisingly little to work with. A man simply didn’t hand a woman jewels, and
the ivory fan had been his best bet.

At least she’d almost forgotten to call him ‘my lord’.

“It’s Uric,” he persisted, and patiently held out the fan. “And you never
know when we’ll have a sudden warm spell.” It sounded crazy, but it accomplished
his objective. She took the fan.

Though she held it as if wondering how soon she could give it back.

Encouraged by his small success, Uric sat on a crate near her and cast around
for something to talk about. “Have you ever been on a boat?”

“I’m trying not to think about it.”

For the first time he noticed how intently she watched Raven with his chalk
and slate. “Are you afraid of the water?”

“The cold.” She shivered.

This wasn’t the first time she’d mentioned the cold. “Have you been hurt by
it before?”

She shook her head and turned slightly, shutting him out. “It’s not the cold
outside I fear.”

And how was he to interpret that cryptic remark? Later. For now she was
turning away from him, and the best defense he had against that was
gallantry.

“Here.” He scooted closer and wrapped his cloak around her.

She stiffened and shot him a wide-eyed look.

He smiled softly. “This cold I can take care of.” He could feel her quickened
breaths, and by the way she looked around at the mildly interested men on the
barge he knew she was embarrassed but too unsure of herself to strenuously
object.